What I learned in an ecovillage

...and why it is important

By Françoise Ducroz

Editor's note: Françoise Ducroz works internationally (in French, English, and Spanish) in the fields of environmental sustainability and personal development. She teaches a contemplative form of yoga and consults on green living and the ecovillage movement. She recently spent three years at the premier intentional community and environmental center, the Findhorn Foundation Community in Scotland, where she worked in guest departments and fundraising; she also helped establish a United Nations-affiliated environmental program. Françoise holds a Master's degree in Art Therapy from the College of New Rochelle in New York.

In September 2004, my husband Wolfe and I left our Connecticut home to live in an ecovillage, spiritual community and education center, near Inverness in Scotland. We knew and loved the place from years of holidays there, where we attended workshops and volunteered in various guest departments. Each visit had felt inspiring. Now, we were going to live there.

We signed up for a three-month intensive group process in community called the Foundation Program. We came to this complex international organization through the front door, as guests paying hard currency for deep transformation, and in our case as a couple. We barely survived the pace of transformation. For three months, we lived on the edge of our comfort zone, examining values, beliefs, and habits. At times, we all aired our dirty laundry. In turn, I felt moved, exalted, inspired, mortified, frustrated, or simply too exhausted to care. Regularly, a few of us would run down to the local pub for an evening of fish and chips washed down with strong ale.

Yet, Wolfe and I did better than survive, we changed. In addition to the personal development curriculum of refocusing on my Yoga practice and deep life purpose, I gained an inside appreciation for the values of community life and the ecological principles of living lightly on the earth.

The Findhorn Foundation Community is a founding member of the ten-year-old Ecovillage Movement. While I was living there, a community-wide ecological footprint study was underway. Reporting on that study, Jonathan Dawson, one of its principals, wrote: “The results are out and are mighty big news.” Findhorn's ecological footprint was the lowest ever recorded for any community in the rich, overdeveloped world. Dawson saw three factors contributing to this success:

1. “Communality” — that is the high levels of sharing and of holding possessions in common.

2. The relationships people have with their food — their mostly vegetarian diet of organically grown local produce.

3. A vibrant enough economy for residents to be employed where they live. “What one sees in Findhorn is the evolution of a cooperatively owned economy with community residents as shareholders.”

Dawson concludes that greater well-being comes, not through the lonely consumption of more stuff, but through the sharing and the building of meaningful relationships within human-scale communities.

Small is Beautiful, the book by E. F. Schumacher which helped inspire the green movement, was my own introduction to the importance of scale to human life. Returning to the scale the village offers (and what is a neighborhood other than the urban adaptation of the village which is a traditional model the world over?) makes other choices easier. One can live a simpler life (less stuff, less debt, less waste), minimize your ecological impact and maximize human well-being.

An ecovillage is a rich and diverse modern settlement where humans strive to live in harmony with nature and with each other. There, new experiments, technologies, and skills designed to create more peaceful and diverse ways of life are tested. The needs of daily life are locally fulfilled with mutual benefit for the individual and the community. Residents shop from organic farmers, organize and attend cultural events, practice their creed in freedom, educate their children, care for their elders, exchange services with their neighbors, and of course reduce consumption and recycle their waste.

Ecovillage life is designed around: Environmentally friendly production of goods and food Ecologically benign jobs and working condition Ecological buildings that enhance health Transparency and consensus Space for personal development Celebration, ritual, and art Outreach to the larger surrounding community

So, can the lessons learned by small-scale communities be applied to the more mainstream society? I think yes. Some say that it is too late. George Monbiot, in his book Heat: How to Stop the Planet from Burning, challenges policy makers and big polluters to change their practices of greed and destruction. Nothing less will do, he says. Yes, and of equal significance is the need for every one of us to “be the change.” In so doing, we empower ourselves, sustain our courage, and make a difference. There is plenty to do for every child, teen, and adult, regardless of resources or temperament. The scientist and the poet, the visionary and the pragmatist, the banker and the teacher, the child and the elder... all are needed in walking our talk, making responsible and conscious choices in our sphere of influence.

Living in an intentional community, I learned that my trash and my complacency are my responsibilities; no one else is to blame for my waste or is responsible to pick up after me. In a small settlement, I cannot hide behind anonymity. I also discovered how joyful and light the task can be when a group of people support, encourage, challenge, and inspire each other.

So, call a meeting with family and friends. Sit around the kitchen table. Find a questionnaire that helps you assess your own ecological footprint. (It will probably come as a shock!) Then decide what are the realistic next steps for you. Decide how often your group is going to meet and schedule the meetings. Last but not least, celebrate your commitment in a fun and appropriate way, such as preparing a meal together. Now is the time.
 

It was the wind that gave them life.
It is the wind that comes out of our mouths now
that gives us life.
When this ceases to blow we die.
In the skin at the tips of our fingers
we see the trail of the wind;
it shows us the wind blew
when our ancestors were created.

— Navajo Chant